


Hello, Shooting Star

by Madin456



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Reminiscing, Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 21:04:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9786977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madin456/pseuds/Madin456
Summary: Two nights. One heartbeat. A million stars.Killua looks up at the sky and thinks of Gon.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics taken and adjusted from the song by Mournoon. This turned out shorter than I expected but I swear I put care into every word.

_Hello, shooting star_

_Hello, shooting star again_

_I’m waiting for you—_

* * *

On one of their very first nights together, when the moon hangs as a shimmering platinum disk among a sea of heavenly spirits and pulsing lights scatter above them in the form of celestial bodies, Killua lets his guard down.

Chilly air slides through the small opening of the window. In their temporary hotel room, two boys change into their pajamas and prepare for bed at the end of a long day. There is sleep pulling heavily on Killua’s eyelids, drowsiness sprinkled between his lashes, as he slips out of his outdoor clothes; allows himself to forget for just a moment that there is evidence of his spiteful upbringing crawling along every inch of his being. In the way he keeps himself at a distance from everyone he meets. In the way his gaze narrows at the world around him, skepticism dancing across his irises. In the way his naked flesh is imprinted with blemishes as a result of torture.

Pearl-tinted light filters into their room, patches of lunar particles tiptoeing along the wooden floors, and when Killua turns to reach for his pajamas, he can feel Gon’s eyes on him. Large, round orbs filled with curiosity staring down his spine. Taking in the details on the former assassin’s bare back.

It’s the first time since the beginning of their travels that Killua openly changed in front of his companion. A mistake. A slip-up.

He quickly reaches to pull on his shirt and cover the nightmares etched onto his skin but the brown-haired boy moves behind him, tenderly holding his hands in place, leaving all of his flaws exposed.

Gon’s fingers gently trace over his back, brushing the scars there lightly as Killua ducks his head in shame. His breath hitches, body shivering at the touch. He knows what the other boy sees; a map of marks left behind by leather whips in a cold dungeon, hideous and ugly and _disgusting_ —

“They’re like stars,” the island boy breathes, smiling.

.

There are secrets written in the stars.

Diamond dust tossed into the sky by the hand of a giant who wanted all of the galaxies to read his constellations. Glistening in code as if to communicate with each other across a vast blanket the colour of rich indigo, like bejeweled grains of sand. Each and every one of them is a message in a bottle, little beacons of hope for the lost souls of this world looking up to seek guidance.

The pieces of angel fire in outer space sigh down at the lonely planet that inhabits humans and Killua leans back on the grassy hill, arms crossed behind his head for support. Wind threads through the strands of his hair and he wonders where he would end up if he follows the trail of stars all the way to the edge of the globe. If they’ll navigate him back to his best friend.

The white-haired boy extends an arm out to the universe that’s just beyond his reach, to the atmosphere miles ahead of him. Takes a deep breath and lets himself believe in the possibilities, feeling himself being lifted upward, higher, higher. _Hold on tight_ , the clouds tell him as his hand grasps at the air swirling around, _and don’t let go._ His mind whispers to him, _home is where the heart is,_ and his heart beats to the steady rhythm of an energetic boy dressed in green.

Killua stays like that, taking in the fresh scent of twilight and living off old memories, searching for something that is gone. Aching for something that he willingly gave up.

Longing, longing, _longing_ —

—lonely.

And when he sees a streak of light passing by above him just as his eyes begin to close, it’s not a wish that crosses his mind, but a single thought:

_Gon._

_I miss you._

* * *

_—so shine for me again_

**Author's Note:**

> Stars are pretty great.


End file.
